


Escape

by JustPlainJennie



Category: Zombies Run!
Genre: Angst, F/M, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-21
Updated: 2013-05-21
Packaged: 2017-12-12 13:54:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/812311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustPlainJennie/pseuds/JustPlainJennie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam tries to clear the air between him and Nadia after his foot-in-mouth episode. Spoilers for S2M1.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Escape

**Author's Note:**

> Zombie's Run doesn't belong to me, I just wanted to play with the characters for a while.

There's an excited buzz in the air as Sam ducks into the canteen. Five gives him a wave as she spots him and then goes back to talking excitedly with Three and Four. He's not looking for them anyway.

He still isn't happy about working with New Canton. It's difficult to forgive an attempted raid, but he wants to at least be civil while they are putting the Abel people up. 

For a minute he and Nadia had a good banter going. In that brief moment of celebration there was a feeling of camaraderie…at least until he spoiled it by reminding her of their deception. 

Sam tries to think of how he would feel if he had seen Alice on his radar, only to discover it was a New Canton runner. His blood begins to boil. Bullocks. 

There she is, talking with Runner 47. He holds back. She did get out of the comms room rather quickly after they finished the mission log. Maybe she doesn't want to talk to him. Probably, but if they're going to be working together he needs to at least try to clear the air a bit. 

"Hey, Nadia. Forty-seven." They glance at him. Nadia frowns. "Eh, Nadia, do you mind if I have a word?" He gives Forty-seven what he hopes is a meaningful look. 

Thankfully she takes the hint, "Yeah, uh, that Mars Bar cake did look good."

Nadia said it was all ‘water under the bridge’, but from her crossed arms and raised eyebrows Sam’s thinking it might not be. “Listen-ah-I’m sorry about the whole Lem thing.” He gets a grunt in response. “I know what it feels like to-to lose a runner.”

Her frown deepens, “He wasn’t just a runner, Sam, he was-” she sighs, “He was more than that.”

“I know,” he’s thinking of Alice again, “I know. That’s what I meant.” Taking a step closer to her, he forces out the words, “I’ve lost a runner who was ‘more than that’. Watched her—” he remembers they’re in a crowded room. “Can we go for a walk?”

Nadia only hesitates a moment before she nods and follows him out into the cool night air.

He didn’t plan on talking about Alice. Now that he thinks about it, he doesn’t really want to. Sam doesn’t even talk about Alice with Maxine anymore, and he actually likes her. Yet, somehow, it just seems natural bearing his soul to this operator he once considered an enemy. “I watched her coming after Runner—after one of our runners. I had hoped she was dead. She wasn’t. They shot her.” The last bit catches in his throat.

They walk along in silence for a few moments until Nadia speaks, “Do you think I’ll have to see Lem like that?” 

Her eyes are sparkling with unshed tears, and although he wants to reassure her and tell her everything will be alright, all he can muster is, “I hope not.”

She worries her bottom lip. “What was her name?”

“Alice. Her name was Alice.”

This isn’t at all what he was thinking would happen. He just wanted to clear the air, maybe show her that they aren’t all that different. Where the hell did all these feelings come from? It's all decidedly un-British.

She rolls the name around in her mouth, "Alice..." It sounds strange in her accent. Makes him cringe. "And did you love her? I mean really love her. Heart in your hand, head over heals, makes you sick just thinking about it, love?"

It isn’t love that makes his heart ache when he thinks about her. It’s the potential. The idea that he’ll never know if she really was everything he thinks she was. “It could have been.”

“Could have been,” she almost whispers, “should have been. That’s the way Lem always wanted it. He knew what was going to happen.”

They’re passing buildings that are familiar to him now. “How many runners have you lost, Sam?”

The question stops him in his tracks. He knows the number—their faces haunt his dreams—but he’s never been asked to say it out loud. Never allowed himself to volunteer it. “Too many.”

She nods, “What on earth made me think it was a good idea to fall in love with a runner?”

“I don’t-I don’t think we get to choose that sort of thing.”

“Maybe not, but we can choose who we get close to.” She steps nearer to him.

“Nadia, you operate their missions every day. You can’t choose who makes you laugh, who’s just bloody brilliant and makes you smile just because…” Sam closes his eyes, gathering himself. He’s busy trying to swallow down the enormous lump in his throat when he feels her lips brush his. It’s a shock at first, but as she pulls away he realizes he wants more and presses his lips against hers, rougher, more desperate.

All at once he’s confused and aroused and guilty because he’s wishing she could be Alice. With his eyes still closed it’s possible. But she’s kissing him back and touching his arms and hips and face and he lets his hands wander too. It’s when she whispers, “Lem” that he steps back, breathless.

They’re by the comms building. Their eyes meet. It’s twisted. They shouldn’t. And yet, in a flurry of hands and lips and bodies she’s on the comms desk and he’s snapping off her bra, and her top and trousers lay somewhere in-between. He knows she’s not Alice. She doesn’t even feel like Alice should have felt. Her breasts, he notices as he grabs at them, are too large, as are her hips. It’s not a runner’s body. Then, neither is his.

Suddenly he doesn’t care anymore. He has this moment and he’ll never have Alice. But he can have her.

With her legs around him he’s somewhere else, somewhere every runner comes home safely and stories have happy endings. They both cry another’s name, in the end, moaning, quivering, and basking in the afterglow of blissful escape.


End file.
